


An Accidental Fire

by TwistedViolets



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Aphrodisiac Plants, Little tiny bit of masturbation-nothing graphic, Luther is affected, More of a sick fic than anything, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sex Pollen, Vanya and Luther bonding, Vanya being a sweetheart, Wholesome Sex Pollen, vanya centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2021-01-01 21:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21149777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedViolets/pseuds/TwistedViolets
Summary: It was a simple job, transfer the flowers on the floor into the dirt rows on the table. Vanya knew she could do it, it’s simple, easy, she will impress her father.There are new plants in the greenhouse, ones her father told her to avoid. She does until she doesn’t.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a old fic I had lying around and I decided to upload because it needs a home <3

It's warm inside the greenhouse, surprisingly so, not because it doesn't make sense, but because the outside air is so cold that she had almost froze before she made it inside. Her skin is warming up, too much, and is simply starting to burn instead of being that nice comforting warm she likes.

Her father doesn't seem bothered by the cold, nor the sudden warmth, he instead is more focused on looking the room over- as if he expects something to be out of place. Nothing is, of course, nobody is crazy enough to try anything that dumb.

She rubs her hands along her arms, hoping for the burning to cease soon, but she knows it takes a minute. She turns her head, sees new plants she hadn't seen before, and gets closer. She peers at the Golden yellow petals, and the lime green stem that in combination just begged her to touch it.

She reaches out her hand, wiggles her fingers in anticipation. Before she has a chance to touch, what she imagines to be a silky smooth flower, her hand is slapped away. 

It hurt, not a lot, but a sudden red mark appeared on her skin, and she yelped more from sheer surprise than pain. She hadn't expected him to take notice of her actions.

"Don't touch that!" Her father yells making her heart beat pick up in her chest from the mere fear that she could be doing something wrong. "That's an aphrodisiac!" He went on, grasping her shoulder, pulling her away from that row of plants.

"You must stay away from those. They can be dangerous," He stresses the last word as he takes her to a few rows of dirt planters, and below the table that housed them sat a small selection of red and yellow flowers.

"Transfer these flowers into these planters for more permanent care," he instructs as she puts on the gloves that had sat on the table, ones made for gardening, and much bigger hands.

"Ignore those," he gestures to the plants, the ones he told her not to touch, and she nods. She knows better than to question him.

What's an aphrodisiac? She doesn't know, and frankly doesn't care, only really taking in that it's probably a poison. A poison that she has no interest in testing out.

He walks away, his cane making a terrible cracking sound off the concrete, he opens the door and he walks through it while it slowly closes behind him leaving her to stare at his back for a moment. 

He's putting way more faith into her than she believes he should.

She sighs, begins to dig out the flowers from the temporary homes, and places them into their new more permanent ones.

"Welcome to the family," she whispers as she gingerly places the first flower into its spot, it's red petals dancing as if it's happy to be here.

She smiles to herself, more than content to have new friends.

————————————————————

She's finished, sweaty, and overall dirty. She can feel the dirt on her face from each time she had tried to wipe the sweat off. Her gloves doing nothing but leaving dirt streaks down her face.

She probably looks like a mess, but for the most part she feels satisfaction. She knows her father will be proud that she did everything like she was supposed without any complaints.

She can't wait until she tells him, until he comes and sees. She grins, tries to really own her pride, but at some point she just realizes it makes her feel strange, weird really, to know how much his approval means to her.

She shakes her head, the thoughts fall out of her brain, and she walks to the doors, fully preparing her self to retrieve her father. Then she noticed those flowers, the golden ones her father had told her not to touch, they had something on the petals now.

A strange, goopy, substance laid on the surface, almost dripping down its petals, making them glow purple. She looks, gets closer, and watches as the substance starts to drip onto the table, making a pile of a gooey substance that reminds her of grape jelly.

She touches it.

Reaches out her gloved hand and pokes at it, unable to feel it, but knowing it is truly like jelly. She lets some drip on her gloves, watches as it rolls around leaving a sticky residue everywhere it touched.

She gets the chills, a shiver runs straight up her back telling her she's doing something bad. Something her father would heavily scold. She drops her hand, and pushes on the door, returning to her first task.

Finding her father.

————————————————————

As she turns the last flight of stairs she's greeted by Luther, or at least his form on the bottom step, as he presses a hand in his hair. He looks upset, and distraught.

She wonders how she can help.

She walks slow and carefully, making sure that she doesn't startle him as she reaches the step behind the last. She kneels down, balancing on the balls of her feet as she presses her gloved hand against his arm. 

His bare arm because he had discarded his coat shirt somewhere, telling her his sulking is probably due to a sparring session gone wrong. He jumps, stands up right as he yelped, before he turns to look at her like she's a ghost. His face pale, his mouth wide open, but than all of a sudden realization glints in his eyes and he frowns.

"Sorry," she mutters, which is true, to a degree. She hadn't meant to scare him so bad.

"Sure you are." He rolls his eyes, rubbing his hand over his arm where she touched him...it's red. Almost looks like she burned him, and she's scared. All it took was a small observation for her to realize that she still had the purple jelly on her gloves.

"We have to wash your arm!" She stands up right so fast that the room spins.

"What?" He said perplexed that she had suddenly developed a voice.

She just stares, watches as the skin turns beat red, and his hand rubbing again and again trying to ease the burn. She removes her gloves, lets them slide off her tiny hands. They fall on the ground with a small thud, as she grasped his free hand, and drags him, as best as she can to the nearest bathroom.

She needs to wash his skin with cold water.

"You didn't have to hit me so hard," he mused behind her, "My arm is starting to burn." He almost jokes, because he doesn't understand that he's definitely been poisoned. It probably seeps through your skin, which is why her father had insisted that she didn't touch it.

She's such an idiot, but an idiot not willing to confess that she's made a mistake. Her father would be so upset with her.

————————————————————

She washes his arm, rubs it down with soap, but it's red flush just continues up his body. He stares at her, watches her panic, and almost seems amused.

Her fingers twitch, knowing it's too late, that the poison has spread through his body. She needs to confess now, needs to tell him the truth.

He needs to know why he's on fire.

She goes to open her mouth, to tell him the truth, only to have him laugh. He laughs, brings a hand up to his mouth as he gives her a half lidded look.

"You're cute when you panic," he said, whispers as he leans in, and she freezes, "You smell sweet today."

She stares, feels her body go rigid from his words, and how much she could see how his hair is beginning to stick to his forehead. He's hot, sweaty, and talking like he has lost his mind.

He must be dying, and it's all her fault.

She backs up, opens the bathroom door, and runs knowing that she needs to tell her father now.

He has to have an antidote...right?


	2. Chapter 2

Her father is upset, angry, very disappointed in her.

"He'll be out of commission for a few days now because of you," he says, rubbing a hand across his face as he begins to frown. "I gave you simple instructions-even a lizard brained idiot wouldn't have messed this up," he continued, giving her a glare.

Her mother smiles at her softly from behind him, providing comfort. Then her father looks back at her and she looks away. "Make yourself useful and escort him to his room," he says with that overly condescending tone to her mother who just nods and smiles like it doesn't bother her.

Her mother walks past her giving her a little pat on the back.

"Is he going to be okay?" She asks, wringing her hand in her skirt while she looks down. She doesn't want to see how disappointed he is in her.

"It isn't lethal...just temporarily debilitating."

"Oh," she sighs, relieved, she doesn't know what she would do if she accidentally...killed him. She couldn't live with herself.

"Let everyone know he's feeling ill." Her father instructs her as he leaves, follows vaguely the same path her mother had walked. 

She nods, letting go of her skirt while taking a deep breath. She's okay, Luther is okay, everything is fine.

————————————————————

Her father places a tray in her hand containing a bowl of soup with a little silver spoon and a glass of water. She holds it the best she can as he looks down on her.

"Since it's your fault he's your responsibility."

She nods, agrees full-heartedly otherwise she could never rid herself of her guilt.

He gestures for her to go and she does, slowly, because she has to go up a flight of stairs. She tries her best not spill anything but the soup ends up jumping on the tray in a little puddle, it's fine though. It's not on the floor and that's all that matters.

She thinks about knocking but she dismisses the idea because he's probably sleeping. She grasps the handle slowly, opening the door as best as she can without making a sound. 

The room is dark, hot, and Luther is curled up in bed, underneath the covers. His eyes are closed, he opens his mouth as he pants against his pillow, sweat drips down his forehead making the hair there stick together. He looks like he's...in pain, his eyes clench up, he bites his lip as he curls in on himself more.

Then she notices it, the sound, the gross sound that echos through the room. It's sorta like a squishing sound, wet on wet skin, it makes her stomach churn.

She flushes red as she realizes what he's doing, the covers around his waist keep moving, his hands hidden underneath...he's touching himself.

She immediately turns away and takes a step, wanting nothing more to leave without him realizing she was there. She is absolutely mortified, her stomach churning so much that she's sure she might throw up.

The floor creaks underneath her and she can't help but mumble a curse.

"Vanya?" Luther asks, his voice hoarse, dry, and she turns to look at him. She smiles a soft, sad smile, trying her best to act like she didn't see what she saw.

He just stares at her, his eyes half-lidded as if he's about to fall asleep. She swallows before walking towards him, keeping the tray outstretched in front of her so he can understand why she's here.

He looks at it but doesn't seem like any light bulbs go off in his mind. His thoughts are sluggish, he's too worked up right now. This is all her fault.

"I've brought you soup," she whispers and a little flicker of recognition flashes on his face and he smiles. 

"Thanks," he slurs before pushing himself into a sitting position, which only revealed how unsteady he is right now. His whole boy is flushed red, sweaty, he looks like he just ran a marathon.

She sits down on the side of the bed, placing the tray in his lap before grasping the spoon. "I'll feed you," she says and he nods, opening his mouth. She takes a spoonful of soup, blows on it, then puts in gently on his tongue.

She repeats this process as he just looks at her like he isn't really understanding what's happening. "Thanks," he mutters as he finishes, sweat rolling down his face before some gets on his lips. He licks them, one of his legs clenching up as he leans into himself as a wave of pain hits him.

He's panting after that, heavy, hard, his eyes close again as he leans back.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, picking up the tray as he looks at her like he's almost on the verge of tears.

"It isn't-" he starts before stopping as he bites his lips for a moment. "You don't need to be," he whispers as a droplet of blood forms on his bottom lip, she feels the guilt hit her even harder as she turns to leave.

"I still am," she whispers so lowly that she's sure he didn't hear a word she said.

She shuts the door quietly, clenching her eyes shut as she feels like she might cry. It's all her fault, she's so stupid, she should be punished.

————————————————————

She knocks on his door this time, knowing better than to just walk inside- that was a rookie mistake she made last time.

There's a noise from inside, one she assumes means come in. She opens the door, bringing in a big bowl of ice water and a washcloth. She's been instructed to give him a bed a bath to help him from overheating or catching something from being unable to bathe.

He's sitting up, his head in his knees as he just pants like there isn't enough oxygen in the room. She walks over to him, slowly, like she's approaching a feral cat.

"I'm here to bathe you," she says, holding out the bucket towards him which results in a little bit of ice water to drop the floor. He looks up at her, his pupils large, dilated so big while just staring at this bucket.

She sits down beside him, dipping the washcloth in the bucket before hovering it in front of him. "Can I touch you?" She asks and he stares for a while before nodding, he lets his knees fall and she can't help but notice that his pants are undone and he's...turned on.

She feels so guilty.

She presses the washcloth to his forehead, he hisses as the ice-cold water soothes his burning. She pays along his arms before asking if it's okay if he takes his shirt off. He does without any real protest.

She presses the rag along his chest as she tries her best to ignore the bulge of his boxers that sticks out of his opened pants. It makes her so uncomfortable, just being close, just knowing what he's been doing in here.

When she's done with his chest she hands him the washcloth and tells him he can do the rest.

She turns away as he takes off his pants. He places them on the floor, before wiping down his legs a little, his movements are all sloppy and it seems like he has to focus all of his energy just to do this simple task.

He drops the washcloth in the bowl as he lays back down, just staring at the ceiling while she gets up to leave.

"Why does father keep sending you?” he asks and she shrugs.

"It's my responsibility."

"That-" he stops, biting his lip as he looks at her. "You're a girl, it's a bad idea to let you come here." He mumbles, looking away again.

"Didn't father explain it to you?" He says, closing his eyes, breathing in before placing a hand over his eyes. "Forget it- just tell Diego to come if father tells you to do anything."

"Alright," she says as she walks out and shuts the door.

————————————————————

She does as she's instructed to do. She gives Diego food to take to Luther or the washcloth and bowl when necessary. 

Diego hates it, he looks like he wants to die each time she asks him to do it but he does it because Luther wants him there. 

"Sorry," she mumbles again, can't help but apologize as she hands him a tray with a ham sandwich and a glass of water on it.

"Yeah, yeah," Diego says, rolling his eyes as he turns away. "You owe me a bunch."

She nods as he takes the food in Luther's room and shuts the door behind him.

————————————————————

She doesn't see Luther again until he's better, until he's daddy's golden boy again. 

He grins, his face finally a normal color as he wears an unwrinkled uniform.

"I'm glad you're better," she says, smiling, feeling her guilt melt away now. 

He looks at her for a moment, tilting his before smiling back. "Yeah me too," he says before turning his attention to his other siblings, the ones who are more important than she is.

"You smell like-" Klaus starts to say, wiggling his eyebrows as if to suggest something before Luther flushes red and yells at him.

"Shut up," Luther presses a hand against his own mouth for a minute before glaring at Klaus who laughs.

"Please keep your tale of sickness to yourself," Five adds in his two cents.

"I agree," Ben and Diego almost said it simultaneously.

"I was worried," Allison said, giving Luther a little punch on his chest.

He smiles before pinching her cheeks, she pushes him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are probably some typos, I’ll check it over tonight <3


End file.
